


The Damnation of Washington

by grumblebee



Category: Turn - Fandom
Genre: After the story ends, Ben is a bamf, Fantastique!verse, Insecurity, M/M, Mushy Feelings, petty gossip, semi public sexual encounter, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:03:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9709610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblebee/pseuds/grumblebee
Summary: Following the events of Fantastique, George Washington is afraid that his elopement with Benjamin has given him a bit of a reputation. At another ball-- a constant source of anxiety for George-- he is confronted by a seething music critic, who wishes nothing more than to make it known that George does not belong amongst high society.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The events in this ficlet come *after* Fantastique. In case you missed anything, you can start there!

It took a great deal of effort to pry the wine glass from his hands long enough to fix his neckcloth, but George conceded and let Ben fuss about with his suit.

“My darling George, you're not still nervous are you?” Ben cooed, tugging playfully at George’s lapels. George pressed his lips into a thin smile, his nerves getting the better of him.

“I'm afraid so, Benjamin. It's just...I am not used to such splendor. The parties, the gossip…” he murmured, taking Ben’s hand in his. “I’ll only embarrass you, like I have before.” 

There was a small chuckle as Lafayette fixed his rouge in the mirror, swaying stance betraying the pre dinner drinks he had sipped thus far. “You've nothing to fear, George, I’ve already pulled Alexander aside and firmly told him  _ no opium.” _

Ben’s lips pinched into a frown, still not quite ready to joke about their near brush with disaster. “Yes well  _ you see to it.” _ He clipped, before returning to George, sweet as cream. “My darling, you look handsome as ever.” He said, pressing against George, his hips rolling slightly. “And your latest concert was the talk of the town. You’ll be raking in applause.” 

Had this been their room, with a little time to spare, George would have insisted Ben slip out of his fine suit and between the sheets where they could do something a little more worthy of applause. “My dear,  _ you’ll _ be earning that applause.” He said, placing a kiss on the corner of Ben’s lips. “You look divine.” Another kiss.”Heavenly.” And another. “ _ Ravishing” _

_ “Please stop.” _ begged Hamilton, his hands busy with a pin on his breast pocket. “You’ll only remind me that John has tittered away another season abroad.” Lafayette crossed the room, his slender fingers able to fasten the pin with ease.

“They are still new lovers, Alexander, be kind. It is our job to turn a blind eye as they kiss too long, or stay up far past their bedtime.” He mused, running his thumb over the bejeweled serpent, its green and yellow stones glittering in the light. “And I shall be your date this evening. Your arm will be kept warm.”

“Warm and  _ heavy.” _ Hamilton scoffed, eyeing the way Lafayette leaned. “By god, you're already drunk. I can't imagine how you’ll make it through the night.”

“Perhaps horizontally.” George quipped. Hamilton smirked, rolling his eyes as Lafayette tipped precariously on his feet.

“Indeed.” 

* * *

The steady creeping of winter could not reach deep within the candle lit halls of Lafayette Manor, with its golden hued walls, and glittering chandeliers. Here it was the height of spring, warm and inviting as their guests became flush with drink. 

George descended the grand staircase, its railing covered in roses, peonies and carnations, their full blossoms cascading like a soft pale waterfall. Benjamin was on his arm, blushing finer than any rose he could pluck off the dark wood banister. 

It was difficult not to feel intimidated, despite being sewn into the circle of Paris’ elite since his elopement with Benjamin. The suit he wore was fine tailored, though still simple and black. He could never feel home in the bright, almost garish, colors some high society darlings donned. Like Lafayette and Hamilton, who wore deep turquoises, emeralds, and purples, strutting around like proud peacocks.

His Benjamin was more his taste, in all aspects. His light blue suit had been tucked away, replaced with a dark royal one, accentuated with gold trim and buttons. He looked handsome. Radiant as he glided down the steps, one delicate arm holding tight to George. In moments like these, George felt at ease amongst these bejeweled vultures. He only wished he could keep him on his arm the entire evening. 

“Monsieur Tallmadge! We have much to discuss!” And just like that, Benjamin was whisked away, dissolving into the glittering crowd as George searched for a drink. This was the part he was warming up to. A few drinks, a little light chatter, mostly about his compositions. When it was about music, it felt natural. But sooner or later the conversation would take a turn, and they would speak of summer homes in the south, or fashion, or horses. Something exorbitantly expensive George never dreamed of, and he would stumble out of the chat feeling hot and embarrassed at his unknowledgeable answers. 

“Monsieur Washington!” A voice came as George downed his fourth glass of wine. “How splendid to see you.” There were many things this encounter was,  _ splendid it wasn't.  _ It was Monsieur Lee. He had scarcely talked to the man before meeting Benjamin, but that never stopped Lee from talking about him. He was Paris’ most scathing music critic, sparing no venom when it came to writing George’s concerts up in the papers. And tonight he was flanked by fellow critics, those who had felt scandalized by George’s untraditional method of composing. 

“Monsieur Lee. How good to see you.” George said, replacing his wine with a fresh glass. The gesture was not unnoticed.

“We shouldn't drink too deeply, Monsieur. A man in his cups is as good as poisoned.” He smirked, accompanied by the haughty chuckles of his peers. George bowed his head slightly, trying his best to remain dignified.

“It's a wise man who follows his own advice. Though I suspect your waistcoat has sipped more wine than you have.” Lee didn't like that. He huffed, straightening his wine stained waistcoat out over the swell of his belly, buttons straining against its curve. 

“They are my silks to stain. Unlike  _ you _ , Monsieur, I don't need to warm beds to afford my clothes. Then again, you had little scruples about honor before your romp with Monsieur Tallmadge, it shouldn't surprise me that a little wardrobe change couldn't make you a good man.” 

George felt his fingers pinch the stem of the glass, threatening to snap the thing in two, when another voice drifted into the conversation. 

“Oh, Monsieur Lee!” 

“Monsieur Tallmadge, I-I didn't see you.” Lee said, startled by how silently Benjamin had slipped into their little circle. 

“No, well that's alright. I came over to congratulate you on your new seat on the opera board.” Ben said. George watched him with rapt glee. This was a set up; a wonderful game of cat and mouse he had seen Ben play countless times.

“Thank you, Monsieur Tallmadge.” Lee said, bristling with pride. “It's a great joy of mine to be on the board. Discussing the classics, scheduling performances.”

Ben hummed. “And if I may, I heard there  was a hold out on George’s  _ Damnation of Faust. _ ”

Lee stalled. “Well, yes, actually. You see, the opera is a place for magic and wonder, but first and foremost  _ tradition.  _ The Paris Opera has a certain level of integrity to uphold, though many smaller venues still take on radical new operas.” 

“Just last year  _ Fantastique  _ played within the Paris Opera. Has our invitation been rescinded?” Ben asked. George admired the way his eyes glimmered with a faux innocence that kept men fumbling.

“That's a different matter. Monsieur Washington’s  _ symphony  _ was most welcome. Though a full opera production--the man power, the craftsmanship, the cast and orchestra-- it's much too high a cost to risk on a new, unheard of production.” 

_ Go in for the kill, Benjamin.  _ George thought, swirling the wine in his glass.

“How terribly unfortunate that our own opera is in such dire straights. Monsieurs Hamilton and Lafayette donated such a generous amount last year, not to mention my annual contribution. I might just have to send a man over to examine the way those funds are spent.” He mused. Lee squirmed.

“After All, there are many world class operas that run on tighter budgets. We must be hemorrhaging somewhere. Misused sets, waste of oil lamps, fully paid board member seats. “

Lee scrambled to make amends. “That being said, Monsieur Tallmadge, I believe the board members can be swayed. New and exciting operas generate more revenue. And who better than our own Monsieur Washington to give Parisians the thrill they so seek.” 

Ben smiled sweetly, in a way George knew made Lee’s stomach flop. “I hope so. I've heard it on piano and it's a splendid opera. I look forward to your  _ insightful  _ review.”

There was nothing more thrilling than watching Ben cut a man down to size. With little more than a nod farewell, Lee and his cronies had shoved their way through the crowd, leaving Ben and George to sip their drinks. 

George felt a familiar heat pooling in his gut, and warmth across his cheeks. And it seemed Ben felt the same way, for soon there was a tug at his wrist as his lover pulled him across the ballroom into a curtained off little alcove. 

“You came just in time, darling” George panted, breaking a long kiss from Ben as he ran his hands up under the jacket of Ben’s suit. “I might have lost my temper.”

“I very nearly lost mine.” Ben breathed, his hands already pulling the shirt tails free from George. “ _ Bed warmer.  _ Ha. As if I haven't seen the things he's done to secure that seat on the board.”

“What kind of things?” George chuckled, kissing his way down Ben’s neck, pinning him to the wall.

“Dirty, _awful_ , ungentleman-like things. Things that would make your toes curl if he had half the body to look at. Or the skill to do it.” Ben laughed, shoving his hands down the front of George’s breeches. George’s breath hitched, and he placed a slow languid kiss on Ben’s already swollen lips. 

“ _ Show me.” _

Ben sighed, and sank to his knees, feet inches from the curtain separating them from most of Paris’ elite. 

“With  _ pleasure.” _

**Author's Note:**

> For tumblr user lafayettedigg, whose love of the Fantastique!verse warms my heart!
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! More benwash on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy


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